irl
by herzhet
Summary: The feeling when you're just only one level away to reaching endgame, but then suddenly reading an announcement about a messed up patch that required an immediate shut-down, then later logging back on, only to find that the GMs had rolled back the system to half the level you were just once at. Fucking shit.


**irl**

herzhet

* * *

"Let's get married."

Too taken aback, if not almost falling out of her chair (and maybe get a head trauma as result of), she might have drowned from the citrus that sponged up her nose. Thinking just moments ago how nice it would be to just stop farming and just sit around the trading post, bask in the sunlight, and listen to—read the—world flame at each other while she drank her lemonade, dying not from a mob but (if not myocardial infarction) asphyxia—IRL—made her felt so unprepared (she hated lack of preparation) for her funeral.

And well, the ultimate event of logging off.

For life.

"W-what?" Sakura coughed out, properly settling—or trying to—herself back onto the wobbly (in the first place, mind you) wooden furniture, whilst ignoring the burning sensations up her nostrils.

Briefly, the atmosphere filled with silence; Sakura still in attempt to compose herself.

"So?" Spinning his chair to face her, nonchalantly, he took a second—literally—to see if she was alright—and finding so—(fuck the oxymoron) before turning back to his screen. Leaning slightly forward to have a closer look at his reflection, Sasuke slung a hand through his gravity-defying hair in attempt to fix the disarrayed lump that caught his attention.

Sakura gawked at him in utter disbelief. Still _un_ recovered from shock, it was the only thing she could do.

"Drool's coming out of your mouth," Smirking, he stared at her through the corner of his eyes. "Gross." He was only kidding, but of course, said it to spite her anyway.

"Eff you!" Sakura snapped in annoyance, launching a half-empty tissue box at Sasuke's direction and flinching when its corner hit the side of his head. Hurriedly, she skipped to his side, cupping his head and examining the area of effect. "Sorry," She apologized, gently twisting his head to look him in the eyes. "Does it hurt?"

The look and sound of her concern and regret dissipated the exasperated expression on his face. It was not like he could afford to be angry when it was his fault, essentially, that he almost got knocked unconscious. Dismissing his thoughts, he replied in slight contempt, "Could you stop throwing random things whenever you like," Sasuke couldn't help but cringe in pain as he touched the redness budding at his temple and mumbling, "the accuracy is unbelievable."

Sakura almost chuckled at his last remark and Sasuke couldn't be more annoyed.

"I'll get some ice." Sakura offered, quickly striding and disappearing into the kitchen. Sasuke groaned in pain.

* * *

An hour and forty-three minutes had already passed since Sasuke's—shocking? appalling? wonderful?—proposal.

 _It was a proposal, right?_ She couldn't help but doubt Sasuke's intention. They have known each other for God-knows how long, in a relationship—without a title (at this, she shook her head in dismissal)—for about three years, and have been living—'sharing' to which Sasuke insisted what the term should be—together since beginning of college.

And yet, she almost didn't come to terms with the prospect of marrying him—at least not now, not later. And not because she didn't want to (but for other reason that is Sasuke).

But it certainly was an inevitable event. _Right?_ She convinced herself and came up with a conclusion: they lived together— _six years_ —long enough and aged enough—at twenty-four—to get married. Given that (and trying so hard not to include all the reasons why Sasuke should marry her), Sakura guessed it was alright for Sasuke (since a girl head-over-heels for a guy ever since forever couldn't really afford to be too choosy anyway)—ignoring the fact that the context wasn't right: they were in queue for pvp, god damn it!—to finally bring it up. Plus, deep inside, she had always been hopefully waiting.

And yet, with another thirty minutes gone by, scrambling all over their apartment cleaning up—stalling—the mess on the floor, washing— _stalling_ —last night's dinner, dusting— _ **stalling**_ —the ever so upkept furniture, she couldn't find the courage to bring it up again.

The pink-haired doctor sighed in anxiety as she plopped herself onto their bed. She took a quick glance at Sasuke's way before redirecting her gaze at the very interesting—rolling her green orbs at the sarcasm—white ceiling. She hated this feeling—the feeling when finally, endgame was just _only_ **one** level away, but then suddenly reading an announcement that the GMs messed up the latest patch and needing a shut down for a system maintenance, then logging back in later only to find out that they fucking rolled back the system to when she was half the level she once was _x_ —did she mention she hated it when GMs don't announce the ETA?—hours ago.

* * *

Sasuke couldn't help but inwardly chuckle to himself at Sakura's infuriated groan. He knew exactly what got her all riled up but pretended to be oblivious as he stated (half-seriously), "As we are now, I was thinking it'd be more appropriate if we do it sooner than later."

"W-what?" It felt like déjà vu as Sakura sprung up, fearing it was IRL endgame—literally, as in death—if suddenly the bed decided to swallow her whole.

"Let's stop beating around the bush," He pretended to focus on the screen—smirking at Sakura's, yet again, flabbergasted expression (he could always tell)—as he lured and tanked the mob before inflicting an aoe. As monotonous as he could sound, he pointed, "It'll be easier for us once we get married." He may be a gamer but nothing could be more amusing than playing _with_ Sakura. So he continued.

"What do you think?" He asked, turning and dragging his chair as he treaded his feet across the wooden floor to Sakura's desk. "So?" Sasuke raised an eyebrow, anticipating a response as he took a sip at the now-diluted lemonade.

Sakura coughed to clear her throat, whilst trying to sort through her thoughts, weighing the more significant first—non-useless—response: accepting his proposal or telling him that she might have slightly regurgitated on the drink earlier. She chose neither, still exhibiting reservation to answer the former and dismissed the latter as executing a guileful revenge.

Still cemented on the same spot, Sakura watched him stride toward her. She observed his dishevelled hair, the conniving smirk on his handsome face, the allure of his toned, shirtless torso, the navy sweats that dangerously—lasciviously—hung low on his hips, down to his bare feet that continued to pace in her direction, stopping only just a few distance before her.

"So?" He repeated, voice more stern, and if Sakura wasn't too distracted by his lips, she could've sworn it was the devil she had heard.

"You're _not_ fucking with me, are you?" With a retorting raise of an eyebrow, she crossed her arms restraining, _fearing_ , that the strong urge to just jump into his arms and make his ears bleed with her screaming 'yes' would cause him to scamper back up his mother's womb. So she remained reserved, but hopeful.

"We can do _that_ later," Sasuke said, voice low, seductive. The glint in his obsidian eyes had her heart hammering in her chest. And Sakura flustered as he slowly slid down the strap of her nightgown with the back of his slender finger, "But if you _insist_ , I—"

"W-wait, wait, wait," Slapping his hand away, she sent him a glare and fixed the strap back up. "I'm serious here!"

"So am I." Sakura continued to blush as he caressed the side of her neck. For a few moments, silence engulfed them. With Sasuke touching her, staring at her, the butterflies thrashing in her stomach couldn't be any more chaotic.

"Okay," Softly, she replied. Sakura didn't admit her excitement, but Sasuke could see it in her emerald eyes. Sasuke couldn't tell if he was more elated with relief, or the devious enjoyment that seemed to increasingly bubble up within him. Probably both.

"Then let's do it now." He said, grabbing her hand and dragging her back to her desk.

Staring at her computer screen, overwhelmed with overdue confusion, she asked, "Huh?" Her gaze then followed him as he sat down on his chair.

"I'll buy the mats," He said in a tone with as much eager as there was lack of innocence, before instructing, "You go to the cathedral npc and go over the requirements."

Sakura was paralyzed in bewilderment. If she wasn't looking attentively enough, she might have missed the laugh that threatened to escape his lips. And when he turned and sent her a devious wink, it finally clicked.

"In-game noob," He said, her eyes dilated then constricted as he repeated and pointed— _emphasized_ —at the screen, " _ **in**_ -game."

The flush of red that rushed up the apples of her cheeks put tomatoes, ketchup, Heinz (or whatever) to shame. Sakura furrowed her brows in irritation, sending a death glare through the speed of light, before rushing at him with enhanced malice and smacking him everywhere—she could—as he aimlessly tried to reduce the damage with his arms.

"Fuck you Sasuke!" Screaming and thrashing, she continued her assault.

Despite the pure, raw damage he had been receiving, Sasuke couldn't help but finally free his laughter. "S-sorry," He started, trying to evade Sakura's painful melee attacks. "It got too fun." He thought her r-att like earlier with the tissue box would be a more preferable consequence, but then again, it would've been too easy.

"How could you _play_ me like that!" Sakura gave him a final smack. "I really thought you were serious!"

"I was—I _**am**_ serious!" Sakura glared in disbelief as she returned to her seat, but meticulously not forgetting to give him the middle finger.

* * *

Sasuke sighed. If Sakura continued to ignore him, nothing would go anywhere. So he swiftly typed on the keyboard, turned to her direction, and waited for a response. He observed the widening and softening of her eyes.

"Typing 'I'm sorry Sakura, pls forgive me, ilu' on world chat doesn't mean you're off the hook." She said softly (forgiving), but he didn't miss the threat in her voice.

"Yea—"

"And couldn't you have just _said_ it?!" She pouted, he smirked.

"There'd be no fun in it." He interjected.

"So you're still making fun of me!" She wailed.

There was a moment—about thirty-two seconds, Sakura counted—of silence before Sasuke broke it.

"Well I guess we could postpone it for a little while." He said, without much reference as to what, leaving Sakura confused, yet again. The pink-haired watched him stride to their closet, put on a shirt and fix his hair. He then approached her with a sincere— _really_ sincere this time—smile, poked her forehead and continued on toward the door, but not without throwing at her a small, navy velvet box over his shoulder. In reflex, Sakura caught it. At the sound of her surprised reaction, Sasuke assumed she had realized what it contained. So he said, "And _that_ , we could do in due time."

"Huh?" She said, her tone quiet, bewildered.

Sasuke sighed, "Marry me, Sakura." The woman in question raised her head to meet his piercing gaze. "In _real_ life." If that wasn't clear enough, he swore to all the Gods out there, he would pluck his hair bald. But before Sakura could answer, he said, "Put something on, let's go get lunch."

Sakura watched him—gaped at him—as he put his sneakers on, hearing him mumble something about 'starving to death'. She blinked once, twice, or maybe a couple of hundred times before finally registering what had just occurred. She called out to him but he was already out of her peripherals.

Quickly and appropriately dressing herself, she grabbed the keys and stumbled out the door.

* * *

Sakura watched Sasuke as he slurped the noodles in front of his screen. Hesitant but with resolve, she gathered up her courage and cleared her throat. "So, about my answer," She started but was immediately cut off.

"I already know." He guaranteed with a smirk, as though it was the most common fact in the world.

The pink-haired turned back to her own screen, clicking her tongue and wrinkling her nose—in combination of distaste, love (mostly), and annoyance—mumbling, "Cocky unromantic bastard."

* * *

. **End**

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Hello readers, I'm sure you all realized **irl** 's reference to many gamer slangs. I apologize for non-gamers who'd read the whole story and didn't have a clue as to what I was talking about. I'm too lazy to define them here. That being said, if you really want to be enlightened about them, leave me a msg and I shall explain. **Or** , you could just google it—surely it's out there somewhere.

Nonetheless, thank you very much for reading. Hope you liked it. To read upcoming works (especially for stories with more substance and my take in portraying _Naruto_ 's amazingly complex characters), feel free to subscribe.

P.S. I had too much fun writing this. But I don't think I met my initial expectations (I hate it when ideas don't turn out well enough on paper). Welp, mah fault, I _am_ the writer.

And please mention the grammatical errors and substance clutters so I could fix them, thank you!


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